Mornings
by Demonsblade
Summary: Aang decides to go wake up Zuko early in the morning and finds something he didn't plan on-and doesn't quite mind. Strong slash. Zukaang. ZukoxAang. AangxZuko.
1. Chapter 1

**Morning**

Obviously, I don't own any of the characters or the world, just the story. Zukaang lemon. Don't read if it's not your thing.

* * *

Aang was getting anxious. His firebending training was going too slow for comfort. Aang could match Zuko's forms, but the blasts just weren't as strong. It was like Zuko breathed fire—quite literally sometimes—but Aang couldn't muster up more than a smoky breath.

"You need to breathe," Zuko had told him.

In the end, Zuko had made Aang squat and practice breathing for hours, just like Jeong Jeong, and frankly, Aang was tired of it. He knew how to _breathe_. He just needed to learn how to breathe fire. He didn't need to be left alone on a cliff to breathe and feel the sun. No, what he needed was for Zuko to be there with him, teaching him. Then, at least, the hours spent breathing wouldn't seem so long.

Aang decided to bring it up with Zuko, so he woke early one morning and crept towards Zuko's room in the Western Air Temple. He tiptoed so that the others would not wake up. It was not yet sunrise, but Aang wanted to get Zuko up and to the cliff so that they could feel it rise together.

He stood in front of Zuko's doorway. He had planned to knock on the wall, but the curtain to Zuko's room was already open a crack. Aang looked inside.

The small room was bare, like the rooms Aang had learned to expect at air temples. Zuko's small bag of belongings was thrown in a corner. The only other thing in the room was the bed. Aang shifted so that he could have a better view of the bed. His heart pounded in his ears. The room was so small Aang could see his sifu clearly.

Zuko was splayed out on his back, the sheets thrown off and crumpled, slowly sliding off the side of the bed. Zuko's limbs were sprawled in every direction. He wore nothing but his undershorts. His skin was smooth and close to his muscles. Hair shielded his eyes and pooled onto the pillow. His mouth was slack, open a little. The little pink nubs of his nipples were puckered.

Aang gasped. He was sure his heavy breathing would wake Zuko.

It was then that he noticed it. The severe bulge in Zuko's shorts.

Aang felt the blood pool in his crotch and he shivered a little. He felt the wrapping of his pants grow snug. Tearing his eyes away from Zuko, he looked down. He had a similar bulge. Aang winced as it throbbed painfully—an ache. He wondered how Zuko could sleep through such a feeling. He looked again at Zuko's shorts and felt something twitch under his pants.

Zuko stirred. He threw a long arm over his eyes. His mouth opened and—he moaned.

Something seeped out of whatever was in Aang's pants. Aang felt a wet spot form on the fabric.

He ran.

Aang shoved himself under the covers in his own room and waited for it to pass. He hoped the stuff that had leaked out—he really hoped it wasn't pee—wouldn't stain his pants.

It was agony, lying there with his crotch all strange like that. He kept imagining Zuko's body on top of the sheets, the way his legs were covered with soft brown hair, the column of his neck as he swallowed in his sleep. And that _moan_—what the hell was that? Aang had never heard anyone make that sound, almost like a whimper.

Imagining these things just made his erection worse. Aang stayed in his bedroom most of the day, feigning sickness whenever someone—usually Katara—came to check up on him.

When Zuko came Aang thought he would die.

"I'm fine," Aang called out when he heard footsteps. "Just a little under the weather."

The curtains were pushed open and instead of Katara, there stood Zuko. Aang felt himself harden again. He curled up into a ball on his side so that the sheets couldn't show his secret.

Zuko walked into the room and stood by Aang's bed.

"We have firebending practice," he said. His voice was harsh, the stern voice Aang had come to expect from Zuko as his sifu.

"I'm not feeling so great today," Aang said. He chanced a peak at Zuko's face, keeping his eyes trained away from the area he was seeing over and over in his head.

Zuko's expression softened and he sat down on the corner of Aang's bed.

Aang inched away. "I'm probably contagious," he said.

Zuko chuckled. "I don't get sick easily." He was silent for a while and Aang tried hard not to focus on the fact that Zuko was sitting on his bed, Zuko, with the smooth skin and the muscles and the moaning. Aang's erection twitched again as he heard the moan in his head. He screwed his eyes shut and pretended to sleep.

"Are you okay, Aang?"

"Fine." Aang cursed his voice. What was wrong with it? It was low and breathy and cracked. His throat was parched. "Just need some rest."

Thankfully, Zuko got up and left. Aang watched his sifu and wondered what his bare back would look like. This did nothing to ease the situation in his crotch.

For a few days after that fiasco, Aang avoided Zuko's room. He tried carefully to not look too closely at his teacher during firebending practice. And when his lessons were over, Aang avoided Zuko like a plague.

But Aang dreamed. He couldn't remember them when he woke, but they left behind a similar erection like the one he had had earlier. Each morning he lay in bed until it passed, trying hard not to think of Zuko or what he had seen in his room. Usually it worked.

The monks had never told him anything like this would happen. If he hadn't seen Zuko have the same problem, he would've thought there was something wrong with him.

Aang thought about asking Sokka. He was a guy. He would probably know what was going on. But the thought of admitting to Sokka that he had seen Zuko in bed was too much. Aang decided against it.

One morning he woke up without the feeling of pressure in his thighs. At first Aang was confused. He had gotten used to the feeling, the sight of it sticking straight up like it had something to say. But this morning it lay comfortably on his thigh.

Aang sighed.

It was then that he noticed the other feeling—the wetness all over his groin, soaked into his underwear and the sheets. He gasped.

He snuck out of his window and washed his sheets and underwear in the fountain before anyone else woke up.

Aang was slowly starting to piece things together. He knew what set off the erection. That much was obvious. He seemed to get it in the morning after an uncertain dream he couldn't remember, and whenever he imagined what he had seen in Zuko's room that one morning he wished he could forget. Being close to Zuko did it, too, now, because Aang couldn't help remembering the skin underneath his teacher's clothes.

But whatever had happened the morning he woke up with wet sheets—whatever that was, it seemed to fix the problem.

Come to think of it, how did Zuko fix the problem? Aang wondered for several days before he decided he had to find out. If every morning he kept finding this—this _issue_, how would he keep traveling? It was fine now when he had his own room but usually their camps offered far less privacy.

So in the morning, just before sunrise, Aang snuck up the side of the building and up to Zuko's window. He had a clear view of the sleeping prince as he stood on the underside of the upside down roof.

Zuko was lying much like the first night, sprawled out on top of his covers. But this time his dream was apparently more violent. Zuko threw his head back and forth. Aang watched the way his hair flew.

"Come on," Zuko said. His voice was low, and Aang leaned in to hear. "Yes—mmm…oh…"

Aang felt the blush creep up his face but he couldn't look away. Zuko bit his lips in his sleep and arched his back a little. Aang saw Zuko's erection, and he already had a matching one. Aang kept himself hidden and watched, his heart pounding in ears.

Zuko's eyes snapped open and Aang dove for cover under the window. He waited and when he finally chanced a look into the room, Zuko's eyes were closed again.

Zuko smiled, his eyes still closed. His hand inched down his chest, pushed his shorts down, and grabbed his own erection.

Aang's breath caught in his throat. What was Zuko doing? He wondered if he should leave. If Zuko turned his head, Aang would be caught. But Aang's legs wouldn't move, and his eyes wouldn't look away from Zuko's hand, so he stayed and watched.

Zuko thrust into his hand and moaned again—that goddamn husky groan that made Aang crazy.

Aang watched, wide-eyed, his own erection forgotten and throbbing, as Zuko stroked himself.

And then suddenly Zuko's face scrunched up and he convulsed, his breath leaving his lips in a hiss.

Zuko's eyes flew open. Aang's instincts kicked in and he was back in his own room before he had a chance to think about it much.

Aang buried himself in his bed and closed his eyes. He touched himself like he had seen Zuko do. And—oh _god_—it felt good. Aang shuddered at his own touch. He thought of Zuko, thrusting up and down on his bed, his lips swollen from where he had bitten them. Aang came, hearing Zuko's moan in his head.

As hard as he tried to stay away from Zuko's room, Aang found himself there morning after morning, watching Zuko touch his own body. Aang felt dirty—he carried the guilt around in the pit of his stomach all day afterward, but the next morning his feet would carry him to the place by Zuko's window. It was like a bad habit he couldn't break.

Then in occurred to him to touch himself right there—standing outside Zuko's window, watching him. So he did.

Aang plunged his own hand in his pants and grabbed himself just as Zuko did. He stroked in time with Zuko. And seeing Zuko's face, Aang came at the same time, or right afterwards. He was grateful Zuko didn't seem to be able to hear his ragged breathing. As soon as Zuko came Aang left, fled like a terrified animal.

And so it was there that Aang found himself one morning. Zuko had been having a particularly vocal dream. He had been muttering things, words Aang couldn't hear in their context, but something about the palace and a guard. Aang watched Zuko's nipples harden. Zuko's hand inched toward his erection and Aang did the same. And as Aang focused, it wasn't like he was holding himself after all. No, it was Zuko holding him, stroking him slowly, a hot breath whispering in his ear. All that skin pressed up against Aang's body, those dry lips over Aang's mouth, that pale neck under Aang's teeth. Aang shuddered at the thought. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him.

Zuko's hand stopped moving, and in reaction, so did Aang's. Zuko's head turned. Aang stood frozen. He couldn't make himself run. He willed his instincts to kick in. Anytime now.

But Zuko's eyes were opening, taking in Aang's torso in his window, and still Aang couldn't move. Zuko's mouth fell open and he just stared. A slow blush was starting to color his face.

Run, Aang told himself. Now would be a good time.

Zuko hastily pulled his shorts back up over himself. He jumped out of bed.

It was like Aang's body was stone. He still stood, stunned.

Zuko's face was beet red. "What," he breathed, his voice low and dangerous, "are you doing?"

Aang tried to say something—anything to salvage the situation but his mouth wouldn't move. He flapped it open and closed like a fish.

Zuko took a step toward the window, then stopped. His eyes raked over Aang's body, clouded with something that made Aang think of the moan again.

Aang realized he was still holding himself, his hand still down in his pants. He pulled his hand out. Aang sprinted out of there.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning After

AN: So after reviewers begged me to continue, I decided to see where this would go. Here's the next installment. Sorry that there's not much smut in this scene, but it's build-up for much fanservice later, promise!

Aang feigned sickness again that morning. Katara came by and sat on his bed. He curled up under the covers and pretended to sleep. His stomach felt like it was rotting from the inside. There were knots all over his insides and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Do you need anything, Aang?" she asked. She was using her motherly voice, full of concern.

He didn't say anything. He hoped that if he stayed silent long enough, she would just take him to be sleeping and leave.

"Aang," she said, a little louder.

No such luck. He pretended to be roused and opened one eye lazily.

She smiled at him, holding out a steaming cup. "I brought you some tea."

Aang pushed himself up and took it. "Thanks, Katara."

She smiled again. "I hope you get better, Aang." She twisted a loop of her hair with a finger, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Aang thought of Zuko, how he had sat on the bed with his elbows on his knees, slumped forward, how his hair covered his eyes and how he had chuckled a little. His breathy voice. Zuko, thrusting up and down into his own hand. Zuko, stroking Aang, biting his neck, moaning into his shoulder.

"Aang!"

He shook himself. Katara was staring at him, wide-eyed, backing away from him like he had suddenly turned into Ozai.

"What?"

Katara pointed a shaky finger at his crotch. Aang looked down. The sheets had been pushed off when he sat up to take the tea. A large bulge was clearly visible under his pants.

Aang jumped and tried to cover himself up. The tea flew out of his hands and all over the sheets.

Katara was up on her feet. She turned and ran, the curtains swinging wildly behind her.

"Oh, man!" Aang said. He held his head in his hands. Why did this keep happening to him? Now Katara hated him. And Zuko definitely hated him. How many people was he going to lose because of his problem?

Something had to be done. He had to ask somebody. And it definitely wasn't going to be Zuko. He waited in bed and listened to the others outside. When Katara and Toph said that they were going to go practice their bending, he leapt up and snuck outside.

Aang hid behind a column and peaked out to the clearing near the fountain where they usually ate their meals. Katara was gone, and Zuko was nowhere to be seen.

"Pssst," Aang called. "Sokka!"

Sokka looked up from scratching his back with his boomerang.

"Sokka!" Aang motioned for him to come over.

Sokka stood up and followed Aang back to his bedroom. Aang sunk into his bed. Sokka stood there with his head tilted, looking nonplussed.

"What's with the secrecy?" Sokka asked.

Aang put his head in his hands. How was he going to even say this?

"There's something wrong with me," Aang said finally. He sighed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.

Sokka folded his arms. "What's wrong with you?"

Aang tried to form the words in his mind.

"If you don't tell me, Aang, there's no way I can help you."

"I—I think it's a guy thing."

Sokka uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "Is it about"—he looked around, and whispered—"_girls_?"

Aang shook his head. How was he going to say this? His face was already burning with humiliation.

"Come on, Aang. Out with it. The great Sokka is listening."

"I get this—this…uh…_problem_. You know—when—when I wake up in the morning."

"Problem?" Sokka looked confused, but then his face lit up. "Oh! You mean a _problem_." He looked pointedly at Aang's pants.

Aang looked down, worried, but thankfully his pants were still loose and it wasn't there. He nodded heavily and buried his face further in his hands.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Sokka said. He nodded sagely. "All guys get it now and again."

"Yeah, but I get it—you know—when I think of…someone."

Sokka blushed and held up his hands. "Well, yeah, that'll happen. But you know, I don't think I want to hear about you and my sister."

"Katara?"

Now Aang was _really_ confused. What did Katara have to do with anything? Sokka must have picked up on the look that Aang had because he dropped his hands and sat down on the bed.

"Aang, didn't the monks teach you about this?"

Aang shook his head. Nothing like this had ever come up.

"That settles it then. You my friend are in desperate need of"—dramatic pause—"sex ed!"

Something in Sokka's tone of voice made Aang think he should never have asked. But he _was_ curious.

"You see, Aang, when a man and a woman love each other," Sokka said, getting up to pace the room with his hands clasped behind his back, "they sometimes want to get naked and touch each other."

"WHA—?"

"But they _shouldn't_." Sokka gave him a stern look. "Especially if they're not old enough and the woman happens to have an older brother with a boomerang that could crack your head open!"

"But I don't—"

"Don't interrupt Aang." Sokka continued to pace. "When you become a man, you can get married and then you two can do anything you want. But until then…"

"I don't want to get naked with Katara."

Sokka stopped walking. His brows were furrowed. "What?"

Aang wondered if he should reply. His curiosity and desire to save himself from Sokka's wrath won over humiliation of admitting to him what happened.

"I don't think about Katara when I get my—problem."

"You don't?"

"No, I—nevermind. I just need to think."

Sokka took a step toward him and pointed at his chest. "You better think and figure this out. Because if you hurt my sister, I won't hold back because you're my friend." Sokka turned to leave.

"So…so I'm supposed to get my problem when I think about Katara?"

Sokka sighed. "It's called an erection, Aang. You need it to have sex." He crossed his arms and turned toward the door, but he didn't take a step. "Who do you think about?"

Aang held up his hands, willing Sokka to calm down. "No one," he said in what he hoped was his most calm and mature voice. "Where's Zuko?"

Sokka looked confused but said, "I haven't seen him yet today. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I just need to talk to him."


	3. Chapter 3

Morning Ch. 3

Aang decided he had to talk to Zuko. This was driving him crazy. He didn't like the way his stomach was all knotted all of the time. He hated thinking of Zuko during his firebending practice. After the incident, Zuko had avoided Aang for the better part of two days. He didn't come to any of the camp meals. No one saw him come or go from the area.

But then, two days later, there he was at dinner, looking sulky and sitting with his knees up in a corner. He avoided Aang's attempts to catch his eye.

After dinner Zuko stood up and walked toward the direction of his room. Aang followed, trying to keep his heart from jumping up through his throat. He _had _to apologize. If Zuko didn't keep teaching him firebending, he would never be able to defeat Ozai.

"Zuko?" he called once they were out of earshot of the others.

Zuko stopped walking. His back tensed.

"Zuko, I—I wanted to apologize for…well…you know."

Aang waited. Zuko was silent, but then he turned around slightly so that Aang could see his face. He stared intently at the wall.

"What you saw," Zuko said, his voice a cold hiss, "that was _private_."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just—I couldn't help it."

Zuko turned and looked at him, just stared for he didn't know how long. Aang shifted a little and looked at the ground, burning under such an intense gaze, while Zuko looked him up and down for what felt like hours. Finally he turned away.

"You're too young," Zuko said. And walked away.

Zuko left with Sokka the next morning, and then went with Katara almost as soon as they returned with all the freed prisoners. Aang didn't have a chance to have a firebending lesson, much less a talk with Zuko. He wanted to prove to his sifu just how sorry he was. He would work hard, harder than he had ever worked before. He would master firebending, and make Zuko proud of Aang as his student. Then maybe—maybe Zuko would forgive him.

Aang trained hard while Zuko was gone. During their first firebending lesson after Zuko got back with Katara, Aang demonstrated the techniques he had practiced.

"Your form has gotten a lot better," Zuko said.

Aang bowed to him, and Zuko bowed back, smiling. Aang let out his breath, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. At least Zuko seemed back to normal.

"Now we're going to work on fire breath," Zuko said.

Zuko lowered himself to the ground with his legs crossed. He patted the dirt next to him and Aang sat down.

"Fire breath starts with control of your own body temperature. My uncle and other great fire benders can produce bursts of flames from their mouths. But for most of us, fire breath simply means being able to heat up and cool down your own body."

"Your uncle _breathes fire_?"

Zuko smiled. "My uncle is a great bender."

"Wow."

"This move is less about form and more about the breath. It takes a lot of concentration."

Zuko got up and untied the strings on his shirt. Aang fell back on his hands, panicking. What was Zuko doing? Was this going to set off his problem again? Aang squinted at his pants, but it seemed fine. Zuko slipped off his shirt, revealing that smooth muscle. He looked down at Aang.

"You, too," said Zuko.

Aang reluctantly took off his shirt and sunk back down with his legs crossed. Zuko sat across from him, his eyes unnervingly staring at Aang's face.

"The more surface of your skin is exposed, the easier it is to pull the sun's energies toward you and warm yourself up." Zuko took in the breath, and let it out in a huff. Smoke curled out of his mouth, even though the air around them was already warm, bordering on hot. "Now you try. Feel the sun's energy, and absorb it like a sponge."

Aang tried to imagine that he was a sponge. He closed his eyes so that he wouldn't keep staring at Zuko's chest. Aang was a sponge, absorbing the sun's rays. He was a sponge. Aang chanced a peak. Zuko was watching him, his eyes roaming over Aang's body. Aang blushed and closed his eyes.

"Am I warm yet?" Aang asked.

He felt the hot touch of a hand on his chest.

"Not yet," Zuko said. "Here." Zuko grabbed Aang's hand and put in on his own chest.

Aang felt small fuzzy hairs underneath his fingers. Zuko's chest was warmer than any body Aang had felt, almost like Zuko had a raging fever. Aang tried his hardest not to blush. He felt this overwhelming, ridiculous desire to kiss Zuko. Wait—kiss Zuko? What was _wrong_ with him? Aang was supposed to kiss Katara, not Zuko.

And then something he had told Sokka swam into his mind. _I don't want to get naked and touch Katara_. What did that mean—if people who loved each other wanted to touch each other naked, then did that mean he loved Zuko? No, impossible. Aang loved Katara.

"What are you muttering about?" Zuko asked.

Aang opened his eyes. Zuko was looking at him with a confused expression. His black hair fell over his scarred eye. Zuko's face was a little flushed from the temperature, his lips redder than Aang had ever seen them.

"Am I hot now?" Aang asked.

"Close. Let me help."

And then warmth flowed in from Zuko's hand, warmth like Aang had never felt. His heart beat a drumroll. He felt his face flushing, his body growing warmer. Zuko was touching him. The part of his chest that made contact with Zuko's hand was so warm Aang thought it was going to burn.

"You have to increase your own circulation," Zuko said. "Get the blood flowing and—and—WAH!"

Zuko fell back, and scooted away, staring at Aang the same way Katara had stared—like Aang had turned into a monster.

Aang looked down with a feeling of dread. And sure enough, there it was, that incessant thing in his pants that was ruining his life.

"I'm sorry!" Aang said. He grabbed his shirt and threw it over his crotch.

Zuko was frozen, his feet out in front of him and his face staring at Aang. He had stopped moving.

"I'm sorry, Zuko." Aang sprang to his feet and clutched his shirt to his chest. It was probably better that he leave. He turned and ran.

He ran into the woods, and had been running for a few minutes before he heard footsteps behind him.

"Aang! Wait!"

It was Zuko, following him. Aang stopped. He stared hard at the ground as Zuko caught up to him and panted.

"I'm sorry, Zuko. It was an accident."

"You seem to be apologizing a lot lately." Zuko didn't sound mad. He sounded like he normally did, stern but awkward.

"I—I don't know what's going on with me." Aang felt all the air leave him and he sank to the ground, his back sliding down the trunk of a tree. "I'm a monster."

Zuko sat down next to him and when he spoke, his voice was soft, kind. "You're not a monster, Aang."

Aang looked up. Zuko was staring intently at his own hands in his lap.

"It's natural," Zuko said. "For young boys, I mean. It's natural to get them when you shouldn't."

"When I shouldn't? But Sokka said—"

"Sokka?" Here Zuko turned to face him. Aang couldn't read the emotion in the burnt side of his face. "What did Sokka say?"

Aang knew he had to be honest sooner or later. It was like the Guru had said. Lies block the chakras.

"Sokka said that I should get erections when I think of Katara, because I like her." Aang clasped his hands in his lap and prepared himself to say it. "But I don't. I get them when I think of"—his voice lowered to a whisper—"of you."

There. He had said it. Zuko probably hated him forever now. Aang steeled himself for his sifu's reaction. But it never came. Zuko just continued to stare at his hands, and when Aang looked, he noticed the color had still not drained from Zuko's face.

"Aang," Zuko said, his voice even softer. His blush deepened.

Aang wondered if they were supposed to kiss now. He leaned a little closer to Zuko. Their shoulders were touching. He turned to face his sifu. They had never been this close before. Aang could see the little red wrinkles of the scar, the way the flesh folded itself over Zuko's eye. Aang leaned closer, and when Zuko didn't push him away, even closer until they were breathing each other's air.

Zuko placed a hand on Aang's bare chest. His eyes flitted back and forth, searching Aang's face. Aang tried to lean closer, but Zuko's hand gently, firmly pushed him away.

"Aang, you're young." Zuko slowly lifted himself off the ground and stood.

Aang looked up at his sifu's bare back, the way the muscles tensed under the skin.

"You're really young, Aang. If you weren't—" Zuko cut himself off and shook his head. He took a few steps away from Aang, back in the direction of the camp.

Zuko turned back to look at him. "This changes nothing," he said before leaving.

Aang sat at the base of the tree, watching Zuko's back as he weaved back and forth between the tree trunks, heading to a place where Aang couldn't reach him.


	4. Chapter 4

Mornings Ch 4

Aang felt at peace. The Phoenix King was defeated, Azula was in prison. Zuko had been crowned Firelord and the war that had been allowed to go on too long—the war that he, Aang, was responsible for not stopping—was finally over. Zuko gave a moving speech to a gathered crowd of mixed nations. He had asked Aang to stay at the palace for a couple of months while they make plans to reconstruct areas destroyed by the Fire Nation.

Toph decided to head back to the Earth Kingdom to see her family, this time with The Boulder and The Hippo. Sokka and Katara were planning on going with Bato to help rebuild the Southern Water Tribe. The night before they left, Katara met Aang on one of the balconies in the palace. The breeze was warm. A sliver of moon hung in the inky sky.

"I'm sorry I have to leave, Aang, but—"

"I understand."

Aang took Katara's hand and squeezed it. She stepped closer to him. Their shoulders bumped and Aang wondered if he loved her. He supposed he did. He was no longer attached to her like he had been—he couldn't be. In accepting his destiny, he had also accepted that he couldn't be attached to anyone. Earthly attachments were not for the Avatar.

"I'll be back before you know it, Aang."

"I know."

Katara leaned forward and kissed him. Aang wrapped his hands around her waist and noticed just how thin she was. They pulled away and hugged. She smelled like some sort of perfume. And there was so much hair. Aang tried to spit it out of his mouth without her noticing. He kind of wished she would cut it short like Toph, or Suki, or Zuko.

After Katara left to go pack, Aang stood out on the balcony and stared at the moon. It was pretty, its light soft, not strong enough to warm the air or his skin.

The next week passed by in a haze. There were meetings with Fire Nation advisors, Northern and Southern Water Tribe representatives, and Earth Kingdom ambassadors everyday and evening. The meetings were long, full of arguments and complaining. But Zuko seemed to handle things well. Often he didn't even need Aang's help reinstating order in the meetings. And when things really got out of hand, Zuko would defer to Aang, hand over the reigns so that Aang could lead as the Avatar and as someone with allegiances in all nations.

"You're doing very well," Zuko told him.

They were having a rare evening of peace. No meetings, no obligations. Just a game of pi sho between friends. Zuko was attempting to teach Aang all he knew, which wasn't much.

"Thanks, Zuko. That means a lot."

They played in silence for a while.

"I'm not very good," Zuko said. He looked disdainfully at the board. "I can't even tell who's winning."

Aang laughed, and Zuko joined in. They were sitting in firelight in Zuko's royal chambers. The muted light was great for Zuko's skin, Aang decided. The sharp shadows thrown by the hair that hung in his face looked odd but familiar and comforting. Aang hadn't seen Zuko with his hair down since he was crowned.

"It's good to see you all relaxed like this," Aang said.

Zuko smiled. "It's rare is what you mean." His smile faltered a little and he pushed the hair out of his scarred eye. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Aang."

"Of course you are. You're the Firelord." Aang hoped his voice conveyed all the confidence he had in Zuko.

"The Firelord is supposed to command fear and respect."

"Sometimes," Aang said, trying to find the words, "the people need to have a ruler who is kind. They will respect you for your humanity."

Zuko smiled again and Aang felt a little flutter in his chest.

"I hope so," Zuko said.

Zuko stared at the board, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. He scratched his chin.

"I think I won," Zuko said. He got up and stretched.

Aang watched the way his body pulled at the silk robes he wore.

"Up for a walk?" Zuko asked.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was waxing full, almost round. They walked by the turtle duck pond.

"When I was young," Zuko said, "this was my favorite place."

They stopped under a tree and Zuko leaned against it. He closed his eyes and breathed in. Aang watched him, and had that violent urge to kiss him, to press him up against the tree. Aang took a step closer.

"Zuko," Aang said. But it wasn't necessary. Zuko was already watching him, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. There was something so vulnerable in Zuko right at that moment that Aang couldn't bring himself to be menacing. He crossed the distance between them and put his arms around Zuko's shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.

Zuko tensed for a moment, then, with obvious effort, relaxed against Aang's chest. His head hung and he rested his forehead on Aang's shoulder. Slowly, Zuko inched his hands around Aang's waist. Aang's breath caught in his throat.

Aang held Zuko as he sobbed lightly, and didn't let go even after the hiccups subsided. They continued to stand there for hours, or at least it felt that way, their breathing matching, their bodies sharing the heat between them in the cool night wind.

Zuko turned his head so that his face was pressed against Aang's neck, his breath warm and steamy against Aang's skin. Aang felt his heartbeat quicken, the blood in him pooling to a certain area that could surely destroy this moment. His knees felt weak. His neck was tingling where he could feel Zuko's lips against his skin. He tried not to shiver with what felt like lightning running up and down his spine.

Aang's arms were going numb from supporting Zuko, but he didn't care. He felt Zuko's lips move against his skin. Was—was Zuko kissing him? It sure felt like it, the lips warm and dry and pressing again and again on Aang's neck. Aang bit his lips to keep his moan in. Zuko's arms pulled him closer and the lips traveled up Aang's neck to just behind his ear.

"Ah—mmmm." Aang shivered. "Zu—Zuko."

The dry lips moved down his jaw. Aang felt Zuko's chest break contact with his body. Zuko was looking at him, searching his face. Aang couldn't speak. He shakily cupped Zuko's scarred cheek with his hand, and slowly pressed their lips together.

Zuko jerked back, his eyes wide.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Zuko said. His eyes darted around the courtyard, then returned to searching Aang's face, looking for something Aang didn't know he could show. "I'm too old."

"I'm old enough to save the world, but not old enough to kiss you?"

"I—"

Aang pressed his lips against Zuko's again, and this time firmly trapped Zuko's head against the tree. Zuko's lips were parted slightly in surprise, but then Zuko kissed him back. Aang threaded his hand into Zuko's hair, and Zuko pulled him even closer. Aang could feel Zuko's hands hot through the thin cotton of his shirt.

He had never kissed anyone like this. He didn't even know if this was kissing anymore. Zuko's tongue was in his mouth and his teeth were nipping at Zuko's lips, and it felt so wonderful Aang wished it would never stop. The lightning bolts in his body were intense, and only got worse when Zuko switched their positions so that Aang was pressed up against the tree and Zuko was kissing his neck, licking a trail hot and wet down to Aang's collarbone. Aang moaned and clasped Zuko's shoulders for support.

Aang should've felt the pressure of an erection but what Zuko was doing to his skin was too much to bear. So when he pulled Aang off the tree and switched their positions again, pulling Aang's hips against his own, Aang thought he would die. His own erection touched Zuko's, and even with all the clothing, this was too much for Aang to handle.

He felt his lips move, beg something and moan, still holding onto Zuko's shoulders. Aang attacked Zuko's neck, biting lightly at the skin and kissing there the way Zuko had kissed him. Zuko pulled their hips closer, working a rhythm into their bodies. Aang rubbed himself on Zuko and felt something wet slide into the inside of his underwear.

Zuko whimpered, his mouth open and his eyes scrunched up.

"Oh _god_ Aang."

Aang kissed Zuko's collarbone and pulled at the fabric of the shirt to get at more skin. Then he realized that he could get Zuko's shirt off so he untied the strings and pushed the shirt off to float to the ground. He quickly took off his own shirt. Their bare chests touched. Zuko's hands roamed all over his chest. Aang gasped when Zuko's fingers rubbed at his nipple. He kissed his way down Zuko's chest and took Zuko's nipple in his mouth.

Zuko moaned again, louder this time, more of a growl.

"Aang—oh…please, Aang."

Aang kissed down the hard stomach, on either side of the little trail of dark hair that ran down from Zuko's belly button. Aang pulled down on Zuko's waistband and licked at the skin.

Zuko slid slowly down the tree. Aang felt fingers on his chin, pulling him up. Zuko's face looked pained, but he was smiling, his mouth open. Aang kissed him again, deeper this time. He positioned himself so that he had his knee in between Zuko's legs. He rubbed his thigh against Zuko's erection. Zuko whimpered.

Aang untied the drawstrings on Zuko's pants and pushed his hand down into the fabric. The moment he grabbed Zuko's erection, Zuko shuddered against him. Aang stroked Zuko like he had done to himself. Zuko's hands pushed their way into Aang's pants and grabbed him. They worked in rhythm. Zuko bit down on Aang's shoulder, convulsing until Aang felt the warm liquid run down his fingers. Just that feeling, of the liquid on his hand, of Zuko holding him, his wet mouth on Aang's shoulder, was too much and Aang came, thrusting into Zuko's hand and moaning.

They lay like that for a while, spent, shaking, feeling the warmth of the other body. Aang wanted to lay like that forever, a crumpled heap at the bottom of the tree, their limbs entangled, shivering against each other under a cold autumn wind.


End file.
